Kate's bête noire
by mathhhh
Summary: It’s time for her to be his strong little soldier, he expects her to be tough, he silently begs her not to breakdown. [KateGibbs]


Kate is holding his hand, squeezing it hard, not because he asked her to or because she thinks he needs her to but because if she doesn't, she's going to dig her nails so hard in her legs that she'll start bleeding. And, right now, she can't concentrate on her own blood, she can't concentrate on anything but him.

She's kneeling besides him as he tries to remain steady, half sitting against the wall, half lying on the floor. She can feel the thick liquid, now, slowly leaving his body, flowing on the hard floor and reaching the pants she recently bought 'cause it had the incredible ability to make her look all professional, if wearing with a nice shirt and amazingly hot if she prefers the sexy red tank top men love so much on her.

But all of this doesn't seem to matter anymore, Gibbs' blood is soaking it and even if she probably won't throw it away she won't wear it anymore and she's not sure about the tank top either, _God his blood is so red !_

She wonders if Gibbs would bleed enough for her to drown and reminds herself that she is an agent and that, right now is not a time to be dramatically poetic. It's time for her to be his strong little soldier, he expects her to be tough, he silently begs her not to breakdown.

She looks him in the eye, blinks a few tears away and realizes that his eyes wear no fear. She sees pain in his blue stare though, of course, even Jethro Gibbs can't deny the aftermaths of a shot in the abdomen but the confidence she can read in his look is well there and too present for her own well-being.

She can't be actually the only one aware of the seriousness of the situation, right ?

Tony's still holding hostage somewhere, EMT won't be there before another five minutes and half of his blood is already on the warehouse's floor.

She doesn't stop talking, strongly whispering to him that _everything will be okay eventually,_ that _EMT will be there soon, just a matter of seconds, _trying to convince them both that she's doing that to reassure him but pathetically failing.

He knows too well, as well as she does that she just needs to keep talking so she doesn't have to listen to him and his advices to take good care of Abby and McGee and help the young agent to offer his support to the Goth, to go to Ducky every time she thinks she's going to founder – 'better that than getting drunk on vodka' she would hear and wonder how he knows vodka is her drug for bad times – and to actually let Tony breakdown for a few days and then go to his apartment, lead him towards a cold shower and make him face reality.

He would tell her all these things and she can't bear to hear them right now, it's too painful, too real, so she holds his hand and fills his ears with sweet talk.

An other minute has passed when she slowly brings her other hand closer to his face, stroking his hair, gently tracing his jaw with her fingertips, drawing little circles on his cheek with her thumb, allowing herself the only intimate gesture of her life towards this man.

She's on the edge of breaking down, she can feel tears rising in her throat and he steadies her weak nerves with a simple look. She instantly stops talking and he finally breaks, with his last words, the only two rules she would have forget about in a heartbeat for him, if he had just let her.

" I'm sorry Kate, I wish we had more times."

* * *

She sharply sits up, a hand on her chest, trying to control her breath.

Her cheeks are wet and she wonders when she started crying in dreams but doesn't really care. She looks at her hands, examines her nails and doesn't find his blood on them.

Someone is shifting by her side and when she feels a warm hand on her back, she jumps a little but quickly comes back to reality.

His voice is rough but it gently fills the air around her.

" Watcha doing ?"

She turns towards the sound that has just broken the quietness of her bedroom and sees the very man of her dream, tousled hair, eyes slowly focusing on her.

She can't talk, she never can in the aftermaths of a nightmare like this, so she just violently puts him back on the mattress, straddles him and plunges her tongue in his mouth, quickly freeing him from his shirt.

He doesn't question her actions, he never does, it's just something she does every now and then. He wakes up, finds her all shattered – probably by a bad dream, but she never wants to talk about it – and she makes love to him like it would be their last time together – not that he complains.

Her hands travels on his torso, slowly lowering to stroke the rough skin of his stomach.

He puts himself in a dangerous situation today, nearly got himself killed… again. She just needs to know that he's actually alive, underneath her.

Later that night, his strong arms around her, she will fell asleep on his chest to the _still_ steady beating of his heart, silently thanking God that he's still alive… until her next nightmare.


End file.
